After The War
by Bryce Cramer
Summary: Sejuani travels to Ionia to reclaim a lost warrior. What she finds surprises her.


Chapter One

A strange figure rode a colossal, shaggy beast through the main street of the Placidium, capitol of Ionia. She wore a steel helmet, with a single horn sticking out of the side of it. The other horn looked as though it had been broken off. She wore thick, furred armor in the heat of the day though she showed no signs of discomfort. A long, leather flail with a massive ball of true ice was holstered on her hip. She pulled her boar to a halt, and looked around.

Sejuani stepped off of bristle. He snorted uncomfortably in the heat of the high Ionian sun. The massive boar seemed ill at ease in the new environment, but Sejuani reassured him with a gentle pat on the head. She looked around the residential area, seeing the uniform houses. Her strange, freljordian attire drew some odd stares, but the massive flail she carried seemed to deter anybody from questioning her presence.

She closed her eyes, remembering the directions given to her by the young man she had intimidated into telling her back at the bayside town she had first arrived on. Sejuani's gaze settled on a house on the corner of the street, its only distinguishing factors being that it was slightly larger, and had more decorative niceties that the other houses did not. Also, the runic stone set into the lawn, describing in freljordian what would happen to unwanted guests, in exquisite and gory detail. Sejuani doubted anyone in Ionia knew what it really read. She let out a chuckle as she read the vivid description. She had found the right place.

She marched up the front steps of the porch of the house. It's white walls reflected the sunlight glaringly, causing her to wince and draw her horned helmet down further over her eyes. She raised a gauntleted fist, and knocked on the door three times, her other hand drifting towards her true ice flail.

The door was opened by a woman with a dark complexion, and short-cut hair. Her features were Ionian, and her clothes were of a finer quality that she had seen other citizens wearing. Behind her was a floating mantle, seemingly suspended by the air itself, complete with several crystals and intricate metal and wood working.

The woman's eyes narrowed as she glared down at Sejuani. She bristled under the scrutiny, and glared back unapologetically.

"Sejuani." The woman stated. It was not a greeting, nor an invitation. The matron of the house simply said her name as a statement.

"Karma." Sejuani said equally coldly. The two had met before.

"He isn't here. If he was, he wouldn't talk to you. Leave our home, warmonger." Karma said, growing more and more agitated at Sejuani's presence.

"I think I can wait for his own decision. Unless you've warped him that much in such a _short time_". Sejuani said, loosening her weapon on the hook of her belt.

Karma noticed the hostile action, and her hands lit up with green fire, fueled by Karma's own spirit. The two women squared off, waiting for the other to take the first hostile action. However a voice from behind Sejuani spoke up before the fight could escalate.

"I miss something?" The voice was gravely and deep. Sejuani turned around. Standing next to the massive stone marker on the yard was a massive man, with a redish-blonde beard that flowed wildly down his chest.

He was wearing a green, collared shirt, and blue jeans with a number of tears and holes in them. He did not have the axes Sejuani usually associated with him, but his muscular physique remained as bulky as she remembered. His great steel helmet as also absent, and his long hair was tied back instead of whipping around randomly as it had in the past. His more "civilized" appearance disgusted her.

"Nothing, Olaf. Sejuani was just leaving." Karma said, as Olaf walked towards the two of them. He glanced down at the fire surrounding Karma's hands, and raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

"Olaf, we need to talk." Sejuani stated. Olaf turned to her, as he stood beside Karma.

"Start talking." He said, brusquely. At least that had not changed.

"Olaf…" Karma began, but Olaf put a hand on her shoulder, urging her to be quiet.

Sejuani withheld a smirk. Olaf was not as lost as she had thought.

"We need you back. As soon as possible. The Avorosan, and the Frostguard are advancing on our camp as we speak. Brand... Kegan came back. He's wreaking havoc randomly. We need our berserker back." Sejuani said uncomfortably. She was reluctant to ask for help, from anybody. But Olaf might be the Winter Claw's last hope to survive.

"…Volibear can-" Olaf began, but was cut off.

"Volibear left to defend the Ursine from Lissandra! We haven't had word from the bear in weeks!" Sejuani bellowed, angered that Olaf would try to push off the responsibility of defending his own tribe onto someone else. Even so, she was surprised when Olaf's shoulders sagged slightly when he heard her say it.

"I've moved on, Sejuani. So should you. The war is lost." Olaf said, melancholy at the news.

Karma patted his shoulder, in a comforting way. Sejuani balked at the lack of bloodlust emanating from the former Berserker.

"When did you become so soft!?" She yelled at him in anger, fully unsheathing her flail, and throwing it behind her menacingly. Olaf straightened at the threat, stepping in front of Karma protectively. Bristle snorted from behind the fence, shuffling his hooves and tossing his colossal head.

"Get my axes." Olaf told Karma coolly. Karma looked unsure, but knew that Olaf would be able to handle Sejuani without her. Pursing her lips at the violence on her property, she strode inside proudly, returning in a matter of seconds with Olaf's massive runic axes. She bore the weight surprisingly well for having so thin a frame.

"Don't break my things." She said, as she walked back inside with a toss of her short hair. Olaf gave a small chuckle and adjusted his grip on his trusty weapons.

"Soft, am I?" He said, stepping off of the porch and onto the lawn. "I never softened. I'm tired of blood. I knew a man who made the same mistake you're making now. Always looking for blood. He and I weren't so different, at a time. He dipped a little far into unfamiliar waters though. Never came back. Well… He did. We call him Brand. And look where it ended him up." Olaf said, his tone rising in anger as his grip on his axes tightened.

"BRAND ISN'T ME, WEAKLING!" Sejuani roared as she whipped her flail forwards, and sent the deadly instrument scything through the air towards her former comrade.

Olaf nimbly stepped out of the way of the weapon as it collided with the dirt. He dashed forwards, swinging both of his axes in a heavy chop seeking to end the fight quickly. However, Sejuani gave a shrill whistle, and Bristle charged through the fence and into Olaf, sending him flying backwards.

Olaf landed in a heap, grinning like a lunatic. As he rose to his feet, he hurled one of his axes at Sejuani, who was a little too slow to dodge. It clipped her armor on the left side, sending her stumbling and probably damaging the ribs that it protected. Olaf charged again, as she recovered. He began swinging his axes rapidly, as Sejuani began swinging her flail. A cold wind started up, in the middle of the Ionian summer. Flakes of ice and snow drifted from the sky over the two clashing warriors as their battle raged on. The thunderous clashing of weapons brought many Ionians from their residencies to watch the two Freljordians battle.

The echoes also brought the attention of another, one who was quick to interject in their little dispute. As both fighters gave a yell and swung for a killing blow, a bolt of golden energy came from the sky, freezing them both in place entirely. The only things the assailants could do was watch, as a strange entity descended from the heavens.

A long white beard and matching hair extended from a circular bronze mask, with three openings. Thin legs and big arms extended from a barrel torso. Surrounding the interloper were small golden beings, that seemed happy to be alive as they danced their little dance around their master.

As movement eventually returned to them, Olaf and Sejuani looked at figure, then at each other, and back to the figure. Needless to say, they were confused. The newcomer let out a pleasant chiming sound, and looked pointedly at the two fighters, glaring at them like scolded children.

They separated, embarrassed. He continued staring as the two barbarians sheathed their weapons. It was only when they had stopped fighting, sheathed their weapons, and stepped away from each other that he turned away. With another chiming sound, he flew off, back into the sky. The little golden faeries faded as his presence diminished.

Sejuani motioned for Bristle to go back to waiting outside the remnants of the picket fence. Olaf shouldered his axes, his grip loose. The barbarians seemed to momentarily forget that they had been fighting recently, as they inspected their weapons and absentmindedly readjusted their clothing.

Olaf turned to Sejuani. "You said that you wanted to talk." Sejuani nodded, and Olaf gestured towards the remarkably undamaged house. They both stepped inside.

Karma had busied herself drafting another poem, a craft she had become famous for since her promotion to Ionian Duchess. It was one of the few things she was politically allowed to do, without some kind of extreme backlash from either the citizens or the surrounding civilizations. However, she made the most out of her newfound political power. She had broken down plenty of other pointless traditions, favoring more sensible practices over the previous outdated ones.

She looked up as Olaf walked in, taking in his scrapes and bruises at a swift glance. She rolled her eyes. Her gaze hardened somewhat, as Sejuani stepped in after him.

"I see you invited her inside." Karma said in a monotone. She was unsure of Olaf's intentions at this point. Sejuani shifted uncomfortably, seeming out of place in the residence.

"There was… Divine intervention." Olaf said hesitantly.

"Sounds like Bard." Karma replied, unimpressed by the excuse. "He's been much more active lately. I wonder what's got him riled." Olaf shrugged, stepping forward and wrapping an arm around Karma's waist.

"First time I've ever seen anything like it. What draws him?"

"Misuse of magical artifiacts." Karma replied as Olaf put an arm around her waist.

"Huh." Olaf grunted in response. "My axes aren't magical, neither is True Ice. That's odd." Karma leaned into his embrace, wrapping one of her own arms around his waist.

Sejuani saw the gesture, and her grimace deepened. Bringing Olaf back to the Freljord was not going to be easy if this persisted. Karma led the way into the sitting room, where plush couches were arranged evenly around a low, circular central table. She sat in the eastern couch with perfect posture. Olaf sat down next to her, slouching somewhat. Sejuani sat across from the two of them.

"Olaf, I'll say it again. We need you back." Sejuani requested once more. Groveling for aid struck her pride, but pride was not worth her tribe. Olaf let out a long sigh.

"I can't, Sejuani. I've got a life here now. A home. That's more than you could ever offer me." He replied evenly.

Sejuani felt a strange pang shoot through her heart, as she looked at Olaf. She thought back to their first battle. The audacious, reckless man who had waded his way through her best troops. The massive battle between them, ending in standstill. Her thoughts drifted further, and she remembered nights around the fire. Olaf drinking and sharing boastful stories of beasts and men he had slain in passing. He would always spare her a moment of time. A passing glance, a rare smile beneath the massive beard. The way he used to look at her…

But her mind snapped back into the present. There were issues on hand, and the Ionian bitch had warped Olaf into a peaceful sap. But the eyes were the same. A sheltered bloodlust lingered. Maybe even a spark of what they had once had between them. She needed to capitalize on it.

"Our people are dying! Wiped out by massive amounts of other troops!" She implored, trying to play on the Berserkers wanton desire for blood and death.

"According to you, that makes them weak and they deserve death anyway." He replied cooly. Sejuani was not sure she liked this new, intelligent Olaf.

He was right, she knew, but she had one more trump card.

"And what about Brand, or Kegan or whatever it is you call the Burning Vengeance? Whatever you want to call him. He's back, Olaf. You knew him before… before Brand. Only you can-"

"Do. Not. Speak. To. Me. About. Brand." Olaf said quietly and concisely, the anger in his voice barely concealed. It was clear that he was struggling to retain his cool. "You know nothing of him, you have no right to mention his name. Go solve your own problems, Sejuani. I can't help you." He stood, and pointed to the door.

Sejuani stood angrily and strode out, without another word. Every instinct in her body was to turn around and try for a conflict, maybe knock Olaf out and drag him to Freljord, but she forced herself to walk on. She swore to herself that tears were not building in the corners of her eyes.

Olaf sighed as he heard the door slam, signaling Sejuani's exit. He turned to Karma.

"Sorry about that." He said, somewhat bluntly. He never had a way with words, but that had never bothered Karma.

"It's not an issue. I'm just glad she left somewhat quietly. How do you think she found us?" She wondered. Freljord and Ionia were not exactly neighbors on the continent, and Olaf's departure from the Freljord had been rather sudden.

Olaf grunted, showing his lack of knowledge. He stood, and strode to the mantle across the room. He carefully placed both of his enormous axes in an even 'X' over the steel horned helmet that he had worn so many years ago, now gathering dust on the mantle. He turned back around, looking at Karma with a strange expression on his face.

Karma could tell that he was deeply conflicted over recent events. He was something of a Freljordian patriot, but he was also dedicated to her and the life they had built.

Karma smiled, and stood. She walked to where he was, and pulled him into a tight embrace. It was the most immediate things she could do.

"I'm glad you're here now." She mumbled into his thick chest, through his beard. He smiled, and returned the embrace, his massive arms carefully wrapping around her slender body.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Olaf said, softly. "I've got a hell of a wife."


End file.
